


Day 13 - Mask

by GemmaRose



Series: OC-tober [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bodyswap, Consensual Bodyswap, False Identity, Gen, Major Character Injury, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: She loves Megatron, but she cannot live her whole life in the shadow of his protection. Not when she has a world to change, and a destiny to shape.
Relationships: Original Cybertronian Character(s) & Original Cybertronian Character(s)
Series: OC-tober [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958275
Kudos: 4





	Day 13 - Mask

Arson hissed, static pouring from her vocaliser as Geronimo dragged her away from the firefight. The whole front of her chestplate was gone, along with the bulk of her left arm, and it _stung_.

“I can walk.” she said, pulling herself upright. “We’re close to your place, right?”

“The clinic is only a few blocks away, yeah.” he nodded.

“Then let’s go.” she caught her friend by the hand and tugged him forward. “We’re not going to get another chance like this.”

“Arson, are you sure this is he right thing to do?” Geronimo asked as they hurried through the streets. “Megatron-”

“Would lock me up for the next millennia if he knew what I was planning.” she snapped, irritation at her carrier and caretaker crackling in her field. She loved the mech, really, she did, but he worried far too much about her and not enough about immediate, tangible acts of resistance. Of rebellion.

“You’re going to break his spark.”

Arson stopped mid-stride, her hand shaking as she clenched it in a fist. “You think I don’t know that?” she asked rhetorically. “He loves me, I _know_ that. I’ve known his spark longer than anything else in the Primus-forsaken world, and he has only ever loved me, wanted the best for me. But he would protect me forever, if I stayed. He would have Orion track me down and bring me home if I left. If I’m going to do my part in this rebellion, if I’m to make the most of my skills, I can’t have him looming over my shoulder.”

“He’s going to blame me.” Geronimo said, and Arson laughed bitterly, focusing her attention inward, closing off the bond she’d had for as long as she had her own spark crystal.

“You don’t have to keep working with them after this.” she pointed out, letting Geronimo’s hand on her shoulder guide her through the door of his clinic. “I’d actually prefer if you didn’t, I think. The less cross-pollination there is between our groups, the lower the chance is of him finding out the truth.”

“You have a point.” Geronimo agreed. “Plus, you’re going to need a CMO.”

“Geronimo, volunteering for more responsibility?” Arson cracked a smile as he led her into his clinic’s operating theater, the one she’d hidden in when they first met, enforcers chasing her down because Nine-of-Twelve had suggested making her pretty face the face of the AVL. It wasn’t empty, this time. The central berth had a mech lying on it, perfectly whole and healthy, save for the grey creeping in at the edges of his plating.

“Fliptrick, this is Arson, the one I was telling you about.” Geronimo said to the patient. “Arson, this is Fliptrick. He’s perfectly fine, except his spark is failing.”

“Lost my conjunx a deca-cycle after bonding to them.” Fliptrick said by way of explanation, and Arson winced. Spark failure from a broken conjunx bond was supposedly one of the worst ways to go, for everyone around the one dying. There was no cure, no way to reverse the damage, only steps to slow it and ease their pain in the last days.

“Oh, Primus.” Arson pressed her hand to her mouth as it clicked. “You- you’re volunteering?”

“I am.” Fliptrick nodded, his pale optics fixed on her. “Geronimo says you have a plan to fix things.”

“I do.” she nodded. “I just- I thought it would take longer.”

“Like you said.” Geronimo squeezed her shoulder. “We’re not going to get another chance like this.”

“You won’t be forgotten, Fliptrick. I promise.” she took his hand in hers, gripping it as firmly as she could.

“I wanted my frame recycled anyways.” he shrugged. “And this is a damn sight better use for it than the government would’ve come up with.”

“We need to act quickly.” Geronimo said, guiding Arson to a bench and helping her up. “And just so you know, if you die for real on me, I’ll drag you out of the Well myself just to kill you with my own two hands.”

“I mean, if I die on your table won’t you have killed me with your own two hands already?” she grinned. Geronimo poked her in the stump of her arm. “Hey!”

“You’re not allowed to die.” he said sternly. “We need you.”

“I know.” she smiled, patting his hand. “Now put me under, and do what you do best.”

\---

She came back online with a groan and a HUD full of optic-searingly red error messages. And a frame which felt... strange. Not her own. Or rather, not the one she’d been forged in. She pushed herself up, and looked over at the bench. to her side. Arson’s frame, grey and still, was laid out on it, chestplate torn open and arm shorn off by a weapon which had probably weighed more than her slight frame. She pushed herself up onto unfamiliar pedes, swayed at the unexpected height, and shuffled carefully over to the frame which had been Arson.

“You’re up sooner than I expected.” Geronimo said, the door sliding shut behind him. “Megatron called while you were out. I told him I couldn’t save her.”

“He believed you?”

“He did.” Geronimo nodded. They were of a height now, which would take some getting used to. “He wants to come collect the frame as soon as it’s safe.”

“In that case...” she took a sturdy blade from the tray of medical tools next to her, and brought it to the spark in Arson’s spark casing. “This needs to be fixed.”

“Fixed?” Geronimo frowned, and she struck the hilt of the knife with the heel of her palm, chipping off a sliver of crystal.

“Megatron harvested the crystal himself.” she said, reaching in to retrieve the gleaming shard. “Anode told me once that it meant I was destined for great things.” she held the chip up to the dim light which filtered through the clinic’s frosted windows. “That Cybertron loved me so much it didn’t want to let me go.”

“You don’t believe in destiny, though.” Geronimo said with a frown. She curled her fingers around the sliver of Fliptrick’s crystal, held it close a moment, then tucked it in her subspace.

“Not as such.” she smiled. “Destiny is what you make of it, and I intend to be _remembered_.”

“Not as Arson, though.” Geronimo crossed his arms, leaning against the bench which held Arson’s grey, dead frame and Fliptrick’s dull, empty crystal.

“No.” she shook her helm. “And not as a femme either, I think. Too anomalous, too hard to fabricate a backstory for.”

She went into the settings for personal data-tags, and reset the pronouns to he/him. As for the name... “Calidus.” he said, the glyphs simple and bold, a good strong designation. “Arson was a poster-femme, a symbol. A tragic martyr, gone too soon.” he smiled, and it felt strange on his new fame. “Calidus, though. Calidus is gonna change the world.”

“First, Calidus is going to change his paintjob.” Geronimo said drily, pressing a credit chip into his hand. “I made a few modifications as soon as I was sure the spark transplant took, but walking around with a dead mech’s face and paintjob is a bad plan.”

“Modifications?” Calidus looked at himself, tried to remember what this frame had looked like from the outside, what was different now. He reached for his fire, and it responded readily, flickering out from the seams in his hands. “Oh sweet, thanks!”

“That- is not something I did.” Geronimo stared, mouth hanging open. “I meant like, I tweaked your helm design and changed the optics from gold to blue.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for that too.” He smiled. “Anywhere you recommend for paint?”

“There’s a little hole in the wall, one block west half a block north. Has a neon sign with only the first and last digits of the address lit up. Say you’re one of mine and they’ll give you a fair deal.”

“Thanks.” he gave Geronimo a smile and a thumbs up. “Back in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Geronimo sighed. “Try not to get shot.”

“No promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to any not-logged-in readers, but due to an ex who refuses to leave me alone I have had to disable anon comments. Kudos are still open though, and if you want to scream (or would like me to write a fic for you) come check me out on Pillowfort! No account required to get my discord, and I'm always happy to chat. [[Link](https://www.pillowfort.social/GemmaRose)]


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